


city's on fire (holding up lighters)

by deanssammy (babylxxrry)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, little match-seller au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13227813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy
Summary: someone must have died, or will die soon, sam thinks. he remembers dean used to tell him that shooting stars meant that someone had died, and the universe was celebrating their life.[little match-seller au]





	city's on fire (holding up lighters)

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year lmao what a way to start off 2018
> 
> based off hans christian andersen's little match seller (i used [ this version ](http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_match.html) as a reference)

it’s so cold. sam shivers, hunching his shoulders against the snow falling quick and settling on his shoulders and hair. he can’t feel his feet anymore, just trusts his brain to guide his body with no input. he’s been roaming the streets of this city for hours, and it’s been long dark. he flits from circle of lamplight to lamplight, trying to avoid patches of snow and the cold they bring in favor of concrete that tears at his feet. he’d stolen the motel slippers when he’d left, but they’re gone, weren’t much help to begin with, but they’d been something. one of them was lying on the side of a busy road somewhere, lost in his dodge between too-fast cars. the other was off in some dog’s yard, carried off in its mouth when he’d lost them.

sam’s got a little bag at his side, filled with bundles of matches, and another bunch held in his hands. he hasn’t been able to sell any all day, which doesn’t surprise him all that much. it _is_ the era of lighters now, isn’t it? no one’s going to buy his sad little matches. he just wishes someone, anyone, had bought something from him, because if he goes back now, without any money to show for a whole day of wandering and begging, he’ll be whipped.

it’s new year’s eve, and sam just wishes dean were here to hold him close. dean’s gone, though, has been since a freak hunting accident three months, ten days, fifteen minutes, and thirty four seconds ago. sam shakes himself, curls brushing his shoulders, and keeps walking past people all dressed up and excited for the night. he’s as invisible as any other homeless person tonight. it’s the only night everyone, no matter how rich, comes out and stands in the cold for hours by choice. sam doesn’t have a choice, not really. dad’s always lost in his bottle, and, well, someone needs to provide for the meagre one and a half meals a day and the seven dollars a night for the shitty motel.

god.

it’s so cold.

sam follows his nose a little ways out of the city centre towards the more residential area of the city. he’s on the wrong side of town to get back, but he can’t bring himself to care. maybe here, he’ll catch some nice family going home that’ll buy something from him. maybe he’ll be able to at least go home to the cold motel room instead of wandering all night.

except he’s too late. it’s past work hours, past commuting hours. everyone’s home already, having dinner with their families.

sam can smell the food, can smell the goose and the roasts and everything else he hasn’t eaten in years. his tummy grumbles, and he bites his lip. if he can’t eat anything tonight, maybe he can just enjoy the smells. he tucks himself the narrow gap, maybe three feet wide or so, between two of the houses, and basks in the smells coming from everywhere around.

it’s _so cold_. sam glances at the matches in his hand, at the brick walls surrounding him. maybe he can warm himself up with a match. dad will beat him for using one of them, but it’s okay. it’s okay, he’ll make up for it tomorrow.

_phwhoosh!_

the little flame flares up, and brings with it a glorious, glorious warmth that sam can barely feel through how frozen his hands are. it’s helping, though, just barely, and he revels in the warmth, drinking it in greedily. it’s almost like he’s sitting in front of a fireplace, like the one apartment they’d had two years ago, warming his hands in front of the flame.

then it’s gone, the match going out with a little huff at a breeze that comes through and curls into sam’s thin jacket, making him shiver and grab for another match.

_phwoosh!_

this time, when the light falls on the bricks in front of him, it’s like it makes the wall transparent, and suddenly sam can see the table, clear as day and heavy with food. his mouth waters. the goose, the steak, the ham, the potatoes, the bread, all of it. the goose stands up and jumps to the ground, waddling  towards him holding a knife and a fork as if inviting him to come and eat up. he reaches for it and _poof_ , the candle goes out.

sam feels tears welling up in his eyes as he fumbles for another match in numb, stiff fingers. he just wants to eat and be warm for once, for the first time since dean held him last.

 _i love you, sammy, be good_ , he’d whispered in sam’s ear before he and dad had left for the hunt.

dad had come back, face ashen. dean hadn’t.

sam just wants to be warm, just wants his big brother back.

_phwoosh!_

the light this time glows like the little strings of light on a christmas tree. they’d never had one, but sam had seen plenty. he’d always wanted one, big and tall and covered in lights and tinsel and ornaments. the match starts to flicker, and sam hurriedly lights two more to keep the tree and the warmth there for just another few minutes.

the wind is unforgiving, though, and the next gust blows out the matches and tugs at the skin on his face. he can’t feel it anymore, can’t feel anything, he realizes. it’s a scary thought, and he sits for a moment, eyes still tracking the phantom christmas lights on the tree. he follows them up and up and up, up to the stars far, far above. one of them, a small baby one, streaks across the rest, leaving a bright trail.

someone must have died, or will die soon, san thinks. he remembers dean used to tell him that shooting stars meant that someone had died, and the universe was celebrating their life.

it’s so cold. he can’t feel anything at all. he needs to get warm. he needs light and warmth and whatever beautiful sight this next match will bring him.

_phwoosh!_

“ _dean!”_ sam cries, because there he is. dean’s standing in front of him, whole and healthy and happy and beaming and sam lets himself cry this time, even though it’s girly, because he’s missed his brother so much. “dean, take me with you, please? i know you’re going to disappear once the match goes out, like the food and the tree and the warmth but i miss you so much, dee, i miss you every single day.”

and sam lights the rest of the bundle so that dean might stay for a little longer, so that he could bask in his brother’s loving gaze and warmth just a little while longer.

“c’mon, sammy, come with me to a place where you’ll never be cold or hungry again. i got you, little brother, just come with me,” dean says, and sam jumps up into his arms, back where he belongs, warm and content and safe.

they fly up together, up to a place where there’s no pain or sadness or anything bad, just warmth and love and light. sam holds on tight to his brother the whole way, because he’s afraid he’ll lose him again if he doesn’t. but dean doesn’t disappear, not even when the wind gusts around them, threatening to tear them apart but never actually accomplishing it.

when morning broke,  people would find the body of a little boy, frozen to death on new year’s day, in the wee hours of the dawn. his cheeks were pale and he was smiling, and he was clutching a bundle of matchsticks. _poor child, he tried to warm himself_ ,  they’d say.

oh, but they would never be able to imagine the glory and the light and the warmth and the love little sammy and his dean had found during the coldest hour of that new year’s morning.

they were forever tied to each other, forever warm and forever loved.

 

//

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you kind of dislike me at the moment ;D
> 
> happy new year!!


End file.
